


All of Me

by teroinreadsteroinwrites



Category: Black Veil Brides, Music RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7241230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teroinreadsteroinwrites/pseuds/teroinreadsteroinwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You still have all of me</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of Me

"UGH!" I yelled, slamming my hands down on the ivory colored keys in front of me.  
  
I was frustrated. I was beyond frustrated. I was at the point, where if I had the strength to flip the piano in front of me, I would have.  
  
I had lyrics. I had the piano part. I even had the band part down. In theory that was all that I needed. Yet here I was. The song just didn’t seem done.  
  
I was writing for my next album, but as you can tell from my apparent frustration, it wasn’t going well.  
  
I was a musical anomaly. I was a classically trained pianist., and a damn good one at that. I was a child prodigy and by the time was 12, I had already played Carnegie Hall. I’d worked put out albums of my own music, and collaborated with the likes of Josh Groban and Barbra Streisand.  
  
This came from a girl, who in really didn’t want anything to do with it. I learned to play, because my grandmother made me. I preferred deadmau5 to Mozart and in my eyes, Metallica reigned supreme. I preferred leather and lace to the sating and silk of my performance dresses, and most of the time I’d rather be at a mixing board than a keyboard.  
  
While playing piano was something that I was good at, it wasn’t something I particularly enjoyed. The playing wasn’t the problem. It was what I was playing. The classical style wasn’t for me. The challenge was there, but it wasn’t fun. It wasn’t like a puzzle, where you have the satisfaction of looking at the image afterwards. It was like a math problem. You get it right, but rather than feel good about yourself all you can think is, ‘ _Fuck you x._ ’  
  
While the music I played and made sounded good, it wasn’t anything I was particularly attached to. I didn’t feel it. I didn’t want to keep playing, but I wasn’t sure if I could do anything else. It was pretty much all I had ever known, drilled into my head by my grandmother since I was little.  
  
I determined that the only way I would know, would be if I just went and explored. Going to college wasn’t something that I had seen myself doing, at least not until later on in my life. It was an out though, and no one around me was going to tell me no, so I took a break and went to school. I got my degree in music production and engineering from Berklee. Still music, but something different. It allowed me to use what I knew to explore different sounds and help others.  
  
I had always written. While I released instrumentals with no issue, I kept my lyrics hidden away. I wasn’t brave enough to sing my own, but I sis start writing for others. It was fun, and allowed me the creative release that I had been yearning for. No rules.  
  
I missed performing though. I was tired of classical and tired of being behind the scenes and scared of putting myself out there. Initially this created a creative blockage that resulted in frustration and a lack of desire to do anything.  
  
Then I just decided to go for it. I started writing, recording, producing and releasing some of my stuff, my weird blend of genres. A few tracks on sound cloud and a few on YouTube and next thing you know, Crooklyn Bridges, owner of Bridges Enterprises and Burning Bridges Records is calling me, with the offer of record deal and a blank check to create a record.  
  
It was amazing. It was like I had finally found the right channel for my ideas. It didn’t take very long for _Songs of a Dying Bird_ to be released.  
  
 _"You did awesome, Mel."  
  
I smiled and slightly bowed my head. "Thank you. It means a lot. I'm so glad that you could make it."  
  
I had no clue who the hell it was I was talking to. Granted they had introduced themselves only minutes prior, but I was so overwhelmed, retaining it was impossible.  
  
I’d been to galas, concertos, charity events, shit I had even played for the President, but nothing had ever felt like this. While they were exciting, and I was and am still very proud of my achievements, they never brought me the same satisfaction and elation as this.  
  
The formality that had dictated the start of my musical career was gone. (Granted the formality was force upon me by my grandmother/manager.)  
  
The crowd held about every type of person you could imagine, and despite never having met me before, they treated me like family.  
  
"Hey! Melinda!"  
  
I cringed recognizing this voice. I turned and forced a smile. "Leland, how are you?" I asked.  
  
Leland was Crooklyn’s son, and a creepy little fucker. He hit on pretty much any girl under the age of thirty, and had taken a special liking to me. _Joy._ Apparently he figured that, since I was bigger, I would be more inclined to take what I could get, that being him.  
  
He was nothing like his siblings, all of who I had met and had liked. I mean he was my bosses son. It’s not like I could tell him to fuck off. I mean I could’ve. Actually thinking about it, Crook probably would’ve been happy if I did.  
  
"Better, now that I've found you."  
  
I bit back the “Dude you’re like twelve,” that had settled on the tip of my tongue.  
  
I quickly glanced around, hoping and praying that one of his family members (preferably his mother) was somewhere in sight. No such luck.  
  
After about five minutes of his insensitive hitting on me, I was ready to pop his head off.  
  
"Leland, you're being a creep. Buzz off.”  
  
I could not have been more thankful for, whoever it was that was my savior.  
  
Leland immediately got defensive. "Oh, I am not," he said. "Ain't that right, baby?"  
  
“Stop.”  
  
"Leland Sixx Bridges!"  
  
Leland's eyes widened as he heard his mother's annoyed bark. He quickly turned and bolted into the crowd of people at the release party.  
  
She turned to me. "I'm so sorry about him. Once he hit thirteen, it was over. I swear I should've named him Leland Mercury or something, because he's taking after the uncle he's named after."  
  
"Crook."  
  
The red haired woman turned around to see one and only Tommy Lee with her son in a headlock.  
  
"Uncle T!" he protested.  
  
"Thanks, Skinny," she said.  
  
"We're going to have a little chat," she said pulling her son out of the crowd by his ear with her best friend, the infamous Tommy Lee, following behind.  
  
I turned back to my savior. He was cute. He was wear black skinny jeans with a loose white button up a black tie and a black jacket and vans. His hair as teased and he rocked the guy liner, and rocked it well. "Thanks. He's a creepy little bastard, aint' he?"  
  
He chuckled. "Yeah he is. He's a good kid, just a little hormonally driven."  
  
"I'm Melinda Bates," I said, introducing myself.  
  
"I know. Congrats on the album. It’s amazing. It’s so different from all of your old stuff, but I can still hear it in there. Did you sample from _Comp 295_?” he asked.  
  
 _Comp 295_ was an EP I wrote. I had taken a class on travel writing and found a little inspiration in it. It was five songs each based on a different country and its culture.  
  
"You noticed that?” I asked.  
  
"Yeah. It was one of my favorite EPs you released. "  
  
"Awww. Thank you. What's your name?" I asked.  
  
"Jinxx."  
  
It clicked. "You're in Black Veil Brides."  
  
"Leland! Dude!" Tommy yelled, chasing after his non-biological nephew.  
  
“LELAND SIXX BRIDGES!” Crooklyn yelled, following behind in her heels. “YOU ARE SO GROUNDED!”  
  
I chuckled at the three.  
  
“Never a dull moment with Crook and family.”  
  
“I’ve noticed that. You’re a pianist too, right?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And strings?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“I tried, but anything with strings. It just doesn’t work. Thank God, fo synths, or else I’d be boned.”  
  
He chuckled. “It takes practice.”  
  
“I know and that’s part of my problem. Practice and I don’t get along.”  
  
He raised his eye brows. “And you’re a pianist?”  
  
“I said we don’t get along. That doesn’t mean we can put up with each other.”  
  
"I can understand that. Are you playing tonight?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah, and I should probably [go get ready](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=141080020) for that. Um… Here. I dug in my small purse and pulled out a pen. I quickly pushed up his sleeve and scribbled my number down on a clear patch of skin on his arm. “Here. Call me. Text me. Whatever. I’d love to hear you play sometime. We could collab or something.”_  
  
He did call, and I did get to hear him play, on our first date. Fast forward a couple years later, and you have me slamming my hands down on the piano in the studio of the house that he and I shared.  
  
Hands came to rest on my shoulders.  
  
“That bad?” he asked.  
  
I nodded.  
  
“What’s the problem?” he asked.  
  
“Something’s missing.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“It sounds empty. Like… I… FUCK!” I titled my head back. “J, help me,” I whined.  
  
“Scoot,” he said, sliding onto the bench next to me. “From the beginning,” he instructed.  
  
I took a deep breath and let my fingers dance along the keys. That was the easy part.  
  
I started to sing. Singing still made me a bit nervous, especially without anything other than the sound of my keys.  
  
“ _I'm so tired of being here  
Suppressed by all my childish fears  
And if you have to leave  
I wish that you would just leave  
'Cause your presence still lingers here  
And it won't leave me alone_  
  
“ _These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase_  
  
“ _When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
And I held your hand through all of these years  
But you still have all of me_”  
  
It still sounded hollow to me. Everyone else had told me that it was fine, especially when the band came in later. They thought that anything else would be over kill. The band played a relatively small part. Something had to expand the sound until then.  
  
Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one, who thought so. Jeremy stood up. “Keep playing,” he urged.  
  
“Keep going,” he said.  
  
I started back up.  
  
“ _You used to captivate me by your resonating light  
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind  
Your face—it haunts my once pleasant dreams  
Your voice—it chased away all the sanity in me_”  
  
I was pleasantly surprised, when the sweet sound of a violin joined in.  
  
“ _These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase_"  
  
It was as if the hollow spaces that neither my voice nor my piano playing could fill. The sounds of the violin wove through the empty spaces.  
  
“When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
And I held your hand through all of these years  
But you still have all of me"  
  
It was amazing. In a way, it was representative of us. Where one of us lacked, the other made up for it. My short temper was balanced by his seemingly never ending patience. His shyness was complimented by my outgoingness. We fit, made each other happy, when we were sad, and though we usually were the reason the other was pissed off, we got through it. Sure being alone was okay. Just like the song had been okay before. It's not like either of us would've been completely incapable of existing, had we been on our own. The track still would've sold. It actually still would've been a stand out on the album. However we were better together. Jinxx's violin lifted the song to a whole other level.  
  
“ _I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone_  
But though you're still with me  
I've been alone all along  
  
“When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
And I held your hand through all of these years  
But you still have all of me  
  
“...me, me, me”  
  
I sat there silent for a minute. It was perfect.  
  
“Well?” he asked. “I was thinking that you could add synths in, and-“  
  
I cut him off. “No. I want you to play it.”  
  
“You do?” he asked.  
  
I loved my synths, but there was no comparison to the real thing. It helped that Jinxx was an amazing violinist. Plus it was he and I together on one of the most emotional songs that I had ever written. There was just something about connecting to someone on an emotional level and being able to do that with music, was just so touching.  
  
“Why the hell wouldn’t I? Plus you still owe me that collab, remember?”  
  
“Yeah. I guess I do,” he said, with a smirk. That smirk under any other circumstances would make me melt, but I was way too into this.  
  
I beamed up at him.  
  
"You're adorable, when you're excited," he said.  
  
"Oh fuck off," I said with no real spite. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips.  
  
“Want to try it all the way through?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah. Then we can talk about arrangements," I said.  
  
"Adorable," he repeated.  
  
I rolled my eyes and started playing again.


End file.
